


Learn to love the fall

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Falling off the edge [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Lydia, Awesome Lydia, BAMF Derek Hale, BAMF Lydia Martin, BAMF Stiles, Banshee Lydia Martin, Bisexual Derek Hale, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Dark Derek Hale, Dark Lydia, Dark Stiles, F/M, Human Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Instant Karma, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mild Gore, Multi, Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Protective Derek, Rape/Non-con Elements, Series, Stiles Uses A Baseball Bat, Territorial Disputes, Violence, Wolf Derek Hale, briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:12:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now Alphas, Lydia is similar to an Ambassador and deals with territorial disputes. The latest dispute takes her to Las Vegas, where Deucalion's pack is negotiating with the Spring Valley and Henderson packs for Paradise.</p><p>When Lydia is attacked, Stiles and Derek arrive in time to see her tear her attacker's throat out, and refuse to leave her alone in Vegas where they're no longer sure who's friend and who's foe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a line from Michael Paynter's 'Love the Fall'.
> 
> See end note for warnings.

Her lips are as red as her heels, and her red dress matches the red polish on her nails. Lydia's dressed to the nines, she looks amazing, and she knows it. She ignores the people that stare as she walks past, head held high and eyes forward because she knows that she has Stiles and Derek waiting for her at home; she has her lovers, so why would she look elsewhere when they're all she's ever needed?

Lydia still maintains this belief, even when she's grabbed and slammed into an alley wall by a man who's been following her away from the rest of the Vegas population for the past few minutes. Her attacker's voice is hot and disgusting in her ear as he sneers at her, tells her that she's a bitch, tells her to _fucking look at him_ , clutching her face, bruising her cheeks as he turns her around so they're face to face. He's made a mistake though, thinking that she'd be afraid, that she would freeze, that she would be weak. He's left her arms and legs free, though he's practically pressed up against her so she can't move her legs to knee him in the groin, and his slimy body feels so disgusting that she almost ruins her outfit in utter revulsion.

"You're just like the rest of them, you and those stuck up bitches that think they're so much better than everyone else, that they're too good for me. I'll show you, I'll show you," he mutters.

Lydia smiles when he's busy fumbling with his belt with his free hand, the other still holding her against the wall. She brings her hand up to caress his cheek, to hold his face for a moment, and he goes pale at the unexpected action. Lydia smiles even broader then, white teeth showing through red lips, and presses her thumb against his eye, pushing and pressing down until she can feel his eyeball squish and sink around her thumb. She's ruining a perfectly good salon job on this little prick.

"You're right: I'm so much better than you, and I'm definitely too good for you," Lydia says, turning them with a speed that's not quite human and slamming him against the wall, ignoring his screams as his eye bleeds and goops down his cheek.

She takes a breath, and her eyes glow as red as her lips, her heels, her dress, her nails. Then Lydia screams and tears the man's throat out with her bare hands.

Derek and Stiles are in the alley with her moments later; they'd probably already started running as soon as she was pulled aside by the disgusting excuse of a man, and it's one hell of a run from Beacon Hills to Las Vegas. Stiles probably used magic to help Derek run for the both of them, even though Derek isn't fond of having magic used on him, and Stiles hates not being able to walk (or run) properly on his own, but his limp would have slowed them, no matter how much magic he used.

"Where was Deucalion? Or his pack?" Stiles asks, even as Derek tears the man apart with his claws, though they all know he's already dead.

Lydia frowns at the bloody mess on her hand, hopes she moved aside fast enough so she didn't ruin her outfit too, and then looks up at Stiles. He's usually patient, but apparently, seeing her covered in blood and tearing her own attacker apart will whittle his patience to threads. He's clutching his baseball bat, looking as though he wants to beat the man alongside Derek, and Lydia gives him a soft smile.

"I convinced Deucalion I could have one night without a bodyguard. Don't worry, I won't make the same mistake again; it would have been so much easier to dispose of the body if someone was around to carry it for me," Lydia mutters.

Stiles sighs and takes her hand, his eyes glowing white with a ring of red, and the blood disappears. "I don't think it'll be enough, Lyds. We heard you scream; Derek almost put another hole in the loft just to get out."

"I'll accept one bodyguard, no more, and I refuse to stay in the loft until Derek's calm again. No offence, Derek, but we all know that that won't be happening any time soon."

Derek lets out a howl in response. There's a faint answering howl from Deucalion and his pack, and Lydia walks over to Derek, placing her hand between his shoulder blades.

"Derek, stop before you tear open his intestines. I have no desire to smell like blood _and_ shit tonight."

Derek's hands still, but he's trembling, as if he wants to keep going. There's little left of the man anyway, bar for his face which Derek kept so he could see the man who hurt _his Lydia, his pack_. He stands up in a fluid motion, pulling Lydia into a tight hug against his body, breathing in her scent and covering her in his own.

Stiles removes the blood from Derek's hands, then Lydia's outfit, and presses kisses to Derek's clawed hands to help calm him and let him shift back. He's human by the time Deucalion steps into the alleyway, staring between the body and the three Alphas with trepidation.

"Alpha Hale, Alpha Stiles. I swear, I would never have let Alpha Lydia out of my sight had I known this would happen," Deucalion said, eyes wide.

Just because he's human again, it doesn't mean Derek's calm enough to reply like one, so Stiles moves between them. Lydia is still caught up in Derek's embrace, and she's whispering things to him that Deucalion and his pack are pretending not to hear.

"It was not your intention, nor was this man one of your wolves or even a rogue in the area, so that is forgiven. However, Alpha Deucalion, this did happen in your territory. We expect higher security details, especially in a place like Vegas, no matter what arguments one of us makes against a bodyguard."

"Threats," Deucalion muttered, coughing slightly. "Alpha Lydia made threats, not arguments. I would have won an argument."

Stiles glances back to Lydia, who's showing no remorse whatsoever, and nods to Deucalion briefly. "I would have expected you to have someone follow her anyway."

Deucalion has the decency to look embarrassed and nods quickly. "I will remember that for next time, Alpha Stiles. I hope there will be a next time, despite what has happened here tonight?" he adds, wincing.

"There may be, there may not be. It will be up to Alpha Lydia to decide," Stiles says clearly, for both Deucalion and Derek's benefit.

Derek pulls away from Lydia with a soft snarl, but Stiles ignores it, and Lydia pulls him in close again, kissing Derek until he's calm again.

"Of course, Alpha Stiles. If you would be so kind as to accept a gift of apology, I will personally escort you to my hotel where you shall receive the suite. I will also ensure that this is cleaned up with no trace left behind," Deucalion added, glancing to the dead man behind Derek and Lydia.

"No, leave it," Lydia says, turning around in Derek's embrace.

He wraps his arms around her, nuzzling Lydia's neck, completely ignoring the other werewolves. If Deucalion and his pack hadn't fought alongside them against Peter, and were more lenient towards informality, Derek's dismissal of the pack might have been considered a slight against them. Derek either didn't care or was too worried about her to worry about the hurt feelings of other wolves; Lydia thought it might be a bit of both.

"I want everyone to see what happens when they threaten us, human or otherwise," Lydia adds, smiling even though she can see a few of the werewolves behind Deucalion shifting uncomfortably.

Leaving the mauled man to be found is risky for their kind, but she's issuing it as a challenge for Deucalion as well, and Lydia can see that he knows that as well.

"Very well, Alpha Lydia. Please, allow me to escort you, Alpha Derek, and Alpha Stiles to the hotel personally," Deucalion offers, bowing slightly.

Lydia nods in response, keeping Derek close as she steps forward. Stiles is beside them in a moment, shrugging off the leather duster jacket he'd been wearing, and wraps it around Derek's shoulders. Derek manages to keep a hand on Lydia even as he slips his arms into it, doing up the buttons in a moment.

Deucalion is murmuring to his second and third-in-commands, telling them to get rid of the cameras and any evidence that would incriminate them to the humans. Lydia allows it, simply because she doesn't want to go to jail herself. Deucalion and his pack will spread the video of the man's demise to surrounding packs so they will know not to mess with Lydia or her Alpha lovers.

Lydia wraps her arm around Derek's waist, threads her fingers between Stiles', and walks with them on either side of her towards Deucalion's hotel on the Strip.

Lydia still looks amazing, she feels even better now that Stiles and Derek are with her again, and her only regret is that she didn't bring her axe.

...

Lydia spends her night wrapped in Derek's arms. He only lets go of her so Stiles can join them, his body curled up against her back. Her cheeks are still bruised in the morning, both men knowing better than to heal her. She's survived another attack, and Lydia's not afraid to show that.

They eat breakfast in the large suite's large bed, and watch the news to see the report about the man that had attacked her. His face still intact helped police, though they had no idea who or what had attacked him to have his organs practically painting the walls of the alley. (There's news footage of a police officer trying to pick an ear off a wall; another picking up the intact intestines, only for them to explode all over the officer, and a bare second of unedited footage of more than one person puking in response. Lydia laughs so hard she almost knocks the plate of waffles and strawberries off the bed.)

Derek stays shifted when the news starts, growling or reverting to monosyllables in response to the sombre reporter's story, and he doesn't turn back for almost three hours. Lydia spends extra time touching and kissing him, drawing Stiles in close so Derek can be close to his pack.

"How was the pack business going, before all of this?" Stiles asks at lunch, spearing his fries on his fork from his place on Derek's lap.

"Good. They're willing to negotiate territorial rights over Paradise with the Henderson pack. Spring Valley are proving to be more difficult; they're claiming that they already have rights over Paradise."

"Who's their Alpha?" Derek asks curiously, rubbing his cheek against Stiles' shoulder, stealing one of his fries.

"Alpha Brian Craigson. Claims he's been here longer than the Henderson pack, but Henderson was built 40 years before Spring Valley existed. Duke and Alpha Jacquelyn are building a case against him. Craigson hates the fact that I'm mediating, but he'll get over it. Eventually," Lydia adds with a smirk.

"Craigson doesn't hate you enough to want to hire someone to kill you, does he?" Stiles asks, almost hesitantly, but no less firm.

Derek's eyes glow red immediately at that, his arm tightening around Stiles' waist.

"I honestly have no idea. He might hate me that much, but the others might be desperate enough to want to frame Craigson so he loses his territory. That way, they don't have to bargain for Paradise," Lydia says.

She knows it's a risk saying that their own host is a possible cause of what happened to her, but she also doesn't want Derek and Stiles to think that it could all fall to one person.

"Of course, it could have just been the whim of a disgusting excuse for a human being who is now dead and no longer a threat," Lydia adds, firm as she looks at them.

"All right, Der-bear, that means the claws go back in. We're staying with you for the rest of the negotiations, no arguments," Stiles adds.

"You'll stay, but you'll be quiet. This is what I'm doing for us and our pack, and for the future of werewolf kind, so I don't want either of you to say the wrong thing and ruin it for all of us, all right? No arguments," Lydia adds with a smirk.

"Agreed," Derek says, sighing.

"Hey, why'd you want to go out on your own anyway last night?" Stiles asks curiously.

"I was planning on cleaning the casinos out and playing the ditzy, vapid, beginner's luck card to escape any casino security."

"Ooh, let's do that! Derek, we have to do that. We need a new wall in the loft, and the library's sorely lacking some high-end, expensive books that can help me with my magic. Please, please, please?"

Derek looks as though he's going to be stubborn about it, so Lydia pouts at him as well, knowing that he's helpless to _both_ of them pleading. He caves in mere seconds.

"Fine, but neither of you are leaving my sight. I mean it, stay together at all times," Derek growls.

"You've got it, Der-bear," Stiles quipped, turning his head to kiss him.

"You need suits. Don't worry, I'm not leaving," Lydia says when Derek looks up at her.

She heads to the hotel phone, presses the button for the concierge, and tells the woman exactly what she wants, adding for it to be charged to Deucalion's name, hanging up a few minutes later. Derek seems pleased that they didn't have to leave in the middle of the day, and Lydia smiles before pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"Come on, let's go test the shower," Lydia says over her shoulder, heading to the bathroom as she strips off her clothes.

"I just finished eating, Lyds," Stiles calls. "Ah, fuck it. You'll help me get through any cramps I get, won't you, Derek?" he murmurs, and Lydia grins when she sees Derek pull him in close for a kiss.

She stands naked in front of the bathroom mirror, head tilted to the side as she surveys her body and the marks from the previous night. He'd slammed her against the wall harder than she'd expected, and there was a large bruise creeping over her left shoulder. _Maybe I should have torn his face apart too_ , Lydia mused. She could still feel the heat of his breath on her neck, the stink of desperation oozing from him, and she suddenly couldn't get under the shower fast enough. Vaguely, Lydia heard Derek and Stiles come into the bathroom, but she was trembling under the boiling hot spray, trying to wash off the stench.

"I can't get it off. Derek, it won't get off. Stiles, get it off me," she begs, teeth chattering despite the hot steam curling around her.

They both step into the shower with her, silently cleaning her with their broad hands and tiny bars of hotel soap, Stiles even using magic when she can still feel that bastard's scent lingering on her. Lydia almost feels back to her normal self when the water starts to run cold, and she forces herself to step out of the shower. Derek and Stiles are barely a second behind her, Stiles taking the fluffiest towel he can find to dry her while Derek starts to brush her hair in long strokes. They don't speak, and she lets the silence fill her, drowning out the noise of the world. Lydia can tell that Derek's been leaching her pain, her shock, but she's glad for it. She can be brave and strong later, but when it's just them, she doesn't have to keep up a façade. She can be herself, completely and utterly, and Lydia is immensely grateful for that.

"Thank you," she says, her voice loud in the quiet, and they both nod in response.

There's a knock at the hotel door, so Stiles slips a bathrobe on to go answer it, his limp making the ten metre journey a few minutes rather than seconds. Derek looks at Lydia's reflection in the mirror, brushing back a stray piece of hair.

"Love you, Lydia."

"Love you, Derek."

"And I love _both_ of you," Stiles says to their suits. "Please tell me the grey one's mine?"

"Of course. Derek gets the navy one," Lydia replies, smiling.

Stiles places the suits on the bed carefully before returning to the bathroom. He kisses Lydia, then Derek firmly, pulling away before they can respond.

"I really do love both of you," he adds, serious now.

"We know," Derek says, a joke between them, and Stiles grins at him happily.

"Love you, Stiles," Lydia replies, kissing his lips lightly. "Now, come help me choose a dress for tonight. Last night's will need to be destroyed, I think."

"Let me do that," Derek says, eyes glowing red as he follows her to the bedroom.

...

Lydia ensures that their suits are on straight, Derek's tie is tied correctly, Stiles' three-piece is buttoned properly, and her own green dress looks fabulous before she lets them leave. She's wearing a light shawl around her shoulders to hide the bruises, because while she's not afraid of showing them, other people might get the wrong idea about Stiles or Derek, and Lydia doesn't want that sort of crap tonight. She's going to have a good time, she's going to forget all about last night, and she's going to clean the casinos out with Stiles and Derek by her sides.

At least, that was the plan, right up until a yellow-eyed Omega snarled and leapt at her mere metres outside of the hotel.

The Omega is thrown across the sidewalk before he could land a blow, Derek snarling and getting the Omega to submit. Lydia and Stiles are beside him in seconds, the three of them staring down at the Omega with red eyes.

"Freshly turned," Stiles murmurs.

"The wound is on the back, not the front of his body. Do you know who bit you?" Derek asks, receiving a quick negative shake from the cowering Omega.

"Gambler, if the dice cufflinks are anything to go by. You were promised money to attack me?" Lydia asks, getting a nod in return.

"Male or female voice?" Stiles asks, thinking of the numbers of the three packs, the percentage of men and women in each, and who they might be able to cross off their suspect list.

"N-neither. Voice synthesiser," the Omega admits, whimpering.

"Were you given a bribe? Surely you wouldn't have accepted this without getting some of the money beforehand?"

The Omega's hands are trembling as he reaches back for his wallet and holds it out to Derek.

"Catch a scent?" Stiles asks when Derek sniffs and frowns.

"No. It's completely clean."

"Must be magic. Money is never clean," Stiles mutters, taking the notes from Derek's grasp.

He chants a few words, eyes glowing a mix of white and red, and the money hovers between his palms for a few seconds before fluttering back down to his open palm.

"Try now," Stiles says to Derek, holding his hand out.

Derek doesn't bother to take the notes, simply sniffs, eyes closed as he concentrates.

"Cocaine, mostly. There's something else. Kind of flowery," Derek says, pulling away with a frown of confusion. "Not wolfsbane," he adds.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I've still got money that needs to be multiplied, and we can let Duke take care of the Omega until we get back," Lydia says.

They're not going to get anywhere with this tonight. The Omega's practically worthless to them, the amount of laundered money that passes through Vegas borders on ridiculous, and the scent of a flower isn't going to help when there's no sun out for flowers to be blooming.

"Can we trust him with it?" Stiles murmurs.

"Yes, because if we come back and the Omega's dead, then we'll know he was the one that tried to kill me, and we'll kill him," Lydia says, eyes ringed red as she smirks and makes her way back towards the hotel where the concierge and front desk staff are staring with wide eyes.

Derek and Stiles follow without hesitation, but they're both anxious to find out just who wants Paradise so much to try to kill their lover.

...

End of first chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied rape/non-con, immediate karma and bloody revenge. Delayed panic attack


	2. Chapter 2

Lydia was right about there not being anything to do after the werewolf attacked her. Derek refused to let either of them leave him, snarling at a few people who came too close for his or his wolf's comfort. Since Lydia and Stiles stayed at the same table with Derek all night, refusing to move (no matter how much the casino security would have liked them to), he had them in sight at all times, and eventually calmed down.

By the time Derek's calm enough to leave Lydia and Stiles on their own, almost four full days have passed. He is still anxious about leaving them alone, especially since they now have casino security watching all three of them carefully as well. It turns out that Lydia's mathematical mind, Derek's nose and ears, and Stiles' ability to annoy people made them very, very good at card games. (Lydia refused to let Stiles use magic, though he argued that they were both using the resources at their disposal, so why couldn't he?) The amount of money they won is not only enough to put all three of them through college, but they can also repair the loft, replace Lydia's wardrobe, and buy Stiles whatever books he needs, and still have some left over. Needless to say, the casino's not happy, and Derek doubts that they will be allowed _near_ any of the major players for a few months.

"Derek? Where're you goin'?" Stiles mumbles from the bed, arm stretched out for him to come back.

Lydia is still asleep, her body curled up against Stiles' chest, both of them tempting him to return to bed.

Derek shakes his head briefly. "Deucalion's asked for me again. Says it's urgent this time," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Stiles' outstretched hand.

Stiles frowns slightly, turning Derek's hand over, eyes fading to white then red as he murmurs some words - a protection charm, Derek realises - before returning the chaste kiss. Stiles looks at him with a soft smile, hair mussed up from his sleep.

"There you go. Gotta keep my favourite boyfriend safe," Stiles says, grinning outright now.

"I'm your _only_ boyfriend, Stiles."

"Therefore, you're my favourite. You're also my favourite person of the male gender. Just don't tell my dad I said that."

Derek grins and kisses him on the cheek. "Go back to sleep; keep Lydia safe until I get back," he adds, looking down at her and stroking her red hair gently.

"You know I will," Stiles replies, then gives him a slight push towards the door. "See Duke and come back to us soon."

Derek nods and leaves before he can change his mind. Deucalion's second-in-command is waiting down the hall for him, and seems a little surprised that Derek is actually coming this time. Derek just nods to the werewolf and steps into the elevator. It's a short trip down to the basement, where a false door reveals a security room and small room currently acting as a prison for Lydia's attacker. Derek balks when he sees that the door is made from moonstone, his wolf snarling at the unexpected threat.

"Good morning, Alpha Hale. I am sorry to take you away from Alpha Lydia and Alpha Stiles so soon, but I have news that you must hear in person," Deucalion says, sounding a little apologetic at least.

Derek decides to skip the formalities; he hates them just as much as he ever has, and he doesn't want to be down here in this room with a moonstone door any longer than he has to.

"Get on with it then, Duke," Derek says, purposely using his nickname rather than his title, and watches as Deucalion nods briefly.

"Very well, Derek. Don't look so alarmed about the moonstone door. It's properties only affect those inside of that room. We can't have a freshly turned werewolf in a normal room, after all. He would escape and wreak havoc on the population."

"Why not use mountain ash then? Stiles can make a circle without a problem," Derek mutters.

"As you are aware, Stiles has been preoccupied for these last four days, and was not available to make a mountain ash prison. Besides, it's far too difficult to get rid of that dust once it's been used in a room. I couldn't stand it if any of my pack were harmed by minuscule flecks of mountain ash."

There's a threat laced in his words, and Derek resolves to tell Stiles not to use mountain ash in Deucalion's apartment building unless absolutely necessary.

"The man who attacked you was recently turned. He was given money and promised more, and was told to attack Lydia by a modified voice. He doesn't know much more than that, unfortunately. But he does live in Spring Valley. We found that there's a connection between him and Alpha Craigson," Deucalion adds, heading over to the computer where a set of files are waiting to be opened.

The photographs are damning, showing Lydia's attacker sitting in a café with Alpha Craigson. They're obviously talking about something together, but as the man was promised money by a person with a modified voice, Derek's still not entirely sure that Craigson's actually the one to blame for Lydia's attack. Someone else could be framing him, but on the other hand, Craigson could be making it look like he's being framed to avoid being put under suspicion.

"I need to talk with him."

"He's trapped in a moonstone room, Derek. You can't go in there without weakening yourself, you'll be just as vulnerable as he is," Deucalion adds, frowning. "I've had to use a human member of my pack for the last four days, and this man's proven himself to be strong in his desperation."

Derek's about to answer, but then he hears a familiar sound of a slide and step, followed closely by heels against the floor, and instead of answering, Derek turns to the doorway where Stiles and Lydia are arriving. Deucalion seems surprised that they're there - they managed to circumvent his security detail - but he nods them both inside to the seats beside Derek.

"Couldn't sleep without you; can we help?" Stiles asks, looking between them.

Lydia mutters something along the lines of 'I could've slept fine without either of you', but Derek and Stiles pretend not to hear since she doesn't seem that annoyed at them, and they know she's lying anyway. She steps away from Stiles, looking into the room where her attacker's sitting.

"Stiles, you'll be able to be in the room despite the moonstone and still be able to defend yourself against him. With Deucalion's permission, of course," Lydia says, business-like as she turns to look between them and Deucalion.

"Of course you have my permission. I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do, Alpha Lydia," he adds with a slight nod of his head.

Derek's a little suspicious of how amiable Deucalion is being; he's being careful with his scent and heartbeat, and if Derek didn't know better, he'd say that Deucalion was afraid. He's not sure of what - or who - but Derek decides to keep a close eye on Deucalion until the pack business is finished and the mystery of Lydia's attacker is solved.

"All right, let me at 'im," Stiles says, clapping his hands together, and heading towards the moonstone door.

"Be careful, Stiles. We don't know what affect the moonstone door will have on you," Derek says, his worry clear in his tone and expression; it's considered a sign of weakness to show any emotion around other werewolf packs, but Derek hasn't been known for following the archaic rules of other packs.

Stiles' face softens, as if he can see every single line of worry on his face, and he nods before opening the door and stepping inside, closing the door behind him with a dull thud. Lydia moves over to Derek, tucking herself into his embrace and against his chest, and he squeezes her shoulder gently. From the other side of the glass, they watch as Stiles sways slightly, eyes glowing red, and that colour fading far too quickly for either of their liking. Stiles stops for a moment, looking a little unsteady, and Derek's claws are already growing, tempted to pull him out immediately. Stiles straightens up and shakes his head a bit, eyes glowing white briefly before fading to his natural warm brown.

The man has been sitting in the corner of the room, looking pale and a little sick, and Derek wonders if he's been fed or has had a drink in the last four days. Before he can ask exactly that, the man gets up and launches himself at Stiles, a snarl on his lips though he's still human. Thanks to Stiles' fast reflexes, he dodges the blunt nails and angry roar, and dances out of the way with hands held up.

"Hey now, calm down. I'm not here to harm you; I just want to talk. There's nothing wrong with talking, right?"

The man falters a bit, as if he hadn't expected Stiles' response. Derek doesn't really blame him - not a lot of people can read Stiles like he and Lydia can, and there's even fewer who can resist telling him everything he wants to know when he's interrogating them. It's a skill that Derek thinks he picked up from his father, because somehow, Stiles can invert that skill and avoid questions like the plague too.

"I mean, some people say I talk too much, which is considered a bad thing, or at least an annoying one. Of course, there's only so much talking people can handle before they snap and try to kill me, and in here, you won't stand a chance against me. Although, I don't like your chances outside of this room either. So you either start talking willingly, or I'll make you talk," Stiles adds, then grins at the man manically.

"I don't know anything! I've already told you everything I know!"

"Well, that's a contradiction right there; how can you have told us everything if you don't know anything?" Stiles asks with a laugh. "Do you know Brian Craigson?"

"No! I told the other one that I don't know who he is! I've never heard that name before!"

"You were spotted at the same café as him in Spring Valley."

"I go to a lot of cafés, there are a lot of people there!"

"Doesn't mean you know them from a bar of soap, got it," Stiles says, then lets out a sigh.

"So I can go?"

"Not just yet. You stink, and we don't want your smell polluting the air of this fine city," he replies with a snort. His expression shifts, and Stiles smirks. "By the way, thanks for the extra cash. We managed to win close to a million dollars _just_ at the card tables. Don't think security were too happy with us, really."

Even from behind the glass, Derek can see how infuriated the man is, at the taunt and knowing he had potentially lost that million dollars to them. Lydia must realise it too, because she stiffens in his arms, and they both watch as he tries to shift, despite the moonstone room. It's not a pretty sight to say the least, his face turning red with anger, and there's not anything he or his wolf can do. Stiles just makes a show of waiting, cleaning his fingernails on his shirt, yawning loudly, and it's doing nothing but make the man even angrier. He lunges forward again when Stiles is seemingly distracted, and though Derek's heart feels like it stops right then and there, his wolf snarling and pacing angrily, Stiles doesn't seem as affected, and simply sidesteps the man once more, turning and throwing him into the wall. He hits with a sickening thud, and Stiles crouches beside his still form, eyes glowing white as he murmurs an incantation over him. Then he stands and steps over the man to open the door, joining the three of them, his eyes filtering back to red, much to Derek's relief.

"He's not going to give us any more information than he already has. Clean him up, give him something to eat and drink, then let him go. Make sure he doesn't go into a casino if you can help it," Stiles adds, shaking his head.

Deucalion doesn't ask any questions, though Derek can smell the curiosity wafting off the older werewolf, but nods and accepts Alpha Stiles' instructions.

"We're going out for lunch," Lydia says, surprising Derek.

He wants to argue, but he can tell that Lydia's planning something, and relents with a brief nod. Stiles mutters something about curly fries, and they leave a moment later. Lydia stays tucked into Derek's side, and he takes Stiles' hand to keep him from wandering, helping to sate his anxious wolf.

Derek's nose leads them to a diner a little off the way that smells somewhat nicer than some of the others that are along the Strip. Most of those places are overcrowded with tourists, and reek of desperation. He's halfway through his burger - slightly overpriced, but the taste makes up for the exorbitant price - when Lydia sets her fork down and waits for them to finish and pay attention to her. Derek sneaks in one more bite before he sets the rest of his burger down, and he can see Stiles wolfing down the last of his curly fries before he looks up at Lydia as well.

"The spell you used on him - a tracking one?" Lydia asks Stiles pointedly.

He nods, wiping the salt off his chin off quickly. "Full moon tomorrow, neither him nor his Alpha will be able to resist. Find the Alpha, find the person who's trying to kill you."

"Good idea," Derek says, trying to be supportive, even though his voice comes out as more of a growl and his eyes flick to red.

Stiles seems to get that he actually means it, despite his red eyes, and smiles at him. Lydia covers his hand with her own, squeezing gently.

"It's all right, Derek. You and Stiles are with me now, nothing's going to happen."

"Well, apart from sex. Sex can still happen, right?"

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles, but his words have the desired effect, and he feels relieved as the red fades from his eyes again.

"I want to go to Henderson and Spring Valley this afternoon," Lydia says, and the brief moment of relief is gone.

"Why?" Derek snarls.

It's all he can get out through the sudden appearance of fangs, though he wants to know why on earth she wants to go there when it's highly likely that the Alphas from one of those areas are trying to kill her. Derek's vaguely aware that they're lucky to be in a dark booth near the back of the diner, but can't bring himself under control just quite yet. Stiles sneaks in a few curly fries while Derek's wolfed out and Lydia's raising her eyebrow at him, looking unimpressed.

"It's a strategic move; I want you to get the scent of both of the Alphas so we can determine just who that man's meeting before he's actually meeting them. I've already met them, but I couldn't smell anything flowery about either Alpha, and besides, I did promise that I would introduce you both the next time we were here together."

Derek understands her reasoning, he really does, but he can't let go of the idea that she'll be hurt the minute she steps beyond the border of Deucalion's territory. _Mind you, Lydia was already hurt within those borders_. He tries to push that thought to the back of his mind, otherwise there's no way they're leaving this diner in the next hour. It takes another minute or so, but eventually, Derek's fangs slip back into his mouth and he nods.

"Thank you. Stiles, when you've cleaned the grease and salt, a protection spell would be handy. I'd rather not leave either of you open to harm, let alone myself," Lydia adds.

Derek can tell how worried she is from that alone. It helps calm him further, knowing that she's not just going to walk into this headstrong, danger be damned. Stiles nods, wipes his hands and mouth off again, presses a kiss to the back of her hand, and does the spell with red and white eyes glowing. He repeats it on Derek, then does the same for himself, and Derek's almost completely calm again by the time he's done. It's not a foolproof spell, it can only do so much to keep them safe and protected, but it's better than nothing at all.

...

The visit to Spring Valley and Alpha Craigson went as well as expected. The man's a misogynist to the point where he actively ignored Lydia in favour of talking to Derek or Stiles (although, after Stiles refused to talk to him in favour of his second in command, Craigson started to talk solely to Derek instead). Annoyed at the man's blatant sexism and disregard for his mate, Derek refused to answer his questions, and instead deferred to Lydia each and every time. She answered as if Craigson had asked her specifically, and overall, it was a surprise that they all left Craigson alive. He face was bright red, his fangs and claws were out, but he didn't attack them once.

Derek noticed that there wasn't a single flowery thing to be associated with him - his pack was full of males of a certain physique and temperament, and as Stiles pointed out afterwards, they'd probably rather their throats were torn out before they willingly went _near_ anything floral-scented.

"It doesn't mean that they're not setting Alpha Jacquelyn up though," Lydia adds in the car as they headed towards Henderson.

"That sort of scent lingers, Lydia, and I couldn't smell a single thing. There are certain werewolves who can hide their scent from others, but there's only so much that can be hidden, and flowers are particularly potent to werewolves."

"Because of wolfsbane?" Stiles asks curiously, and Derek nods in return.

"We have to be able to smell it sooner than other flowers, especially while out on a hunt or run, so we've become accustomed to it more than most scents."

"You didn't smell it with Peter," Lydia points out, her knuckles tight on the steering wheel, her body tense as it always is when she talks about him.

Derek rests his hand over hers, slowly calming her down. "Peter knew things that not even I did, including how to make wolfsbane into a powder so it was harder to detect."

"I'm fine," Lydia mutters, pulling the car into a nearby street.

Neither Derek nor Stiles believe her, but Derek lets go of her hand, all of them silent as she pulls into a driveway.

"We're here. Give me a minute to freshen up," Lydia says, pulling down the mirror to check her reflection.

Stiles sneaks in a kiss before he slides out of the car, and Derek squeezes her leg gently before following him out.

"How many are in there?" Stiles murmurs, nodding to the large house they're in front of.

"Sounds like a lot," Derek replies distractedly, seeing the flowers lining the front of the house.

"What's wrong?"

"Those purple flowers are newer than the ones in the rest of the garden. Earth's been freshly dug up," he adds softly enough for Stiles to hear, and hopefully not loud enough for anyone inside to hear.

Stiles looks over to the flowers, leaning back against Derek as he considers them. "They don't really match the rest of the garden either, do they? Too sharp considering everything else is all soft petals and whatever. They look familiar, too. I think I've seen them before."

"I need to get closer to scent them, see if it's the same flower," Derek murmurs.

Stiles nods firmly and then gets back into the car where Lydia's applying her lipstick.

"Der thinks the purple flowers might have the same scent as the one from the money. New flowers, freshly dug earth, all the good stuff."

Lydia presses her lips together, puts the lid on her lipstick, then turns to Stiles and smiles with blood-red lips. "Well, he'll have his chance in a minute; we're going inside."

She gets out of the car, Stiles scrambling to follow her, and Derek sighs softly. He shouldn't have expected anything less; Lydia likes to face threats head on when she can.

"Lydia, what a pleasant surprise!" a woman calls from the front door, smiling broadly and waving to them. "I didn't know you were coming back so soon, otherwise I would have cleaned. Ignore the mess, I've got the pack doing a spring clean."

"It's not spring," Stiles mutters, wincing when Lydia nudges him in the ribs with her elbow.

"That's not a problem, Alpha Jacquelyn. We're just stopping by for a quick visit, and I'm sure these two won't even notice the mess; they never do at home, after all," Lydia says with a laugh, heading up the garden path to greet Jacquelyn.

Stiles looks like he wants to argue that, but he seems to understand what she's doing by luring Jacquelyn into a false sense of security and camaraderie, and just smiles broadly when Lydia introduces him to the other Alpha.

"Nice to meet you, Alpha Jacquelyn," Stiles says, receiving a brief nod in return. "This is Derek," he adds, bringing Derek to his side so he's right next to the flowers.

Derek breathes in deeply, as if he's nervous, and the scent of the flower hits him like a tidal wave. It's so much stronger than the faint scent on the cash, but it's the same, and that means either Jacquelyn is the one causing trouble or she's being set up to make them think that.

"Alpha Hale, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," Jacquelyn says warmly, extending her hand for him to shake.

"Derek doesn't like touching people," Stiles says, grabbing Derek's hand and squeezing firmly.

"Not a problem, that's understandable. Maybe when we know each other better, you'll change your mind, Alpha Hale," Jacquelyn says with a smile that makes Derek feel uncomfortable.

"I love what you've done with the garden, Alpha Jacquelyn. You've got some lovely flowers; I'm so jealous. I have a complete black thumb," Lydia says, laughing in a way that reminds Derek of her conversations with her father.

There's something sharp in Jacquelyn's gaze, and Derek thinks that maybe this is one of the times they _shouldn't_ be meeting a threat head on.

"That purple one's Blessed Thistle, isn't it? It's really fresh, especially for this time of the year," Stiles adds. "I've read that Blessed Thistle is really good for purification spells, but I haven't had a chance to use it myself."

"We have an emissary who orders most of these plants; I've little idea what they are, to be honest," Jacquelyn replies.

Her voice sounds steady, but there's a tiny uptick in her heartbeat, and it's enough to get Derek pulling Stiles and Lydia behind him, red-eyed and growling threateningly at the other Alpha. The sharp expression comes back onto Jacquelyn's face, and she smiles coolly.

"Now, now, there's no need for such dramatics, Alpha Hale," Jacquelyn says, as if she's scolding a three-year-old. "This has nothing to do with you, and I will be more than willing to let you live if you hand those two over."

Derek answers her with a roar that's enough to deafen and shake the windows in the house.

"Well, that's a shame. I was looking forward to having a mate as powerful as I am," Jacquelyn says with a disappointed sigh. "Elsie, please bring them inside and we'll get started."

Derek turns around in time to see a young woman floating a foot above the ground, and she blows a yellow powder off her hand, the particles sprinkling over the three of them. Derek tries to reach out for Stiles and Lydia, to break their fall if nothing else, but the powder takes hold of him too quickly and he collapses to the floor, Stiles and Lydia unconscious in front of him. His wolf howls, and the sound follows him into the darkness.

...

End of second chapter


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles wakes up with a pounding head and a soft groan of pain. He doesn't know what was in that powder, but the after-effects feel worse than a hangover after two and a half bottles of Jack. When he feels like he can actually open his eyes without being in head-splitting pain, Stiles sees Derek sitting across the room from him. He's awake, doesn't seem to be in as much pain as Stiles is in - lucky werewolf healing - but Derek looks pissed off, and Stiles is willing to bet it's not just about the fact they've been drugged and kidnapped.

 

"Der? What's wrong?" Stiles asks, getting up to walk over to him.

 

Before Derek has a chance to answer, Stiles hits an invisible wall and is thrown backwards. He lands in a crumple, his back twinges in pain, and he lets out a torrent of swearwords.

 

"Fuck! What the hell was that?!" Stiles groans, barely able to stand again to make his way over to whatever he'd slammed into.

 

"Smells like mountain ash, but there's something else in it. Same with Lydia," Derek replies, his fangs out at them being captured and caged like this.

 

Stiles frowns down at the line of ash, eyes glowing red and white as he tries to move it. There's not a single response, not even one grain of the ash moves.

 

"This should work. Why isn't this working? What the fuck did they put in this?" Stiles mutters, more to himself than Derek, but Derek seems to take his question seriously.

 

"Smells like the flower outside. Blessed Thistle. But something else, too."

 

"Unless you enjoy excruciating pain, I suggest you not try to cross the ash line again," Alpha Jacquelyn says, smiling cruelly as she enters the room with a young woman behind her.

 

Elsie, the one that knocked them out with the powder, if Stiles remembers correctly.

 

"What do you want with us?" Stiles demands, glaring.

 

"You? Absolutely nothing," she replies simply.

 

Across the room, Stiles can see that Derek is frowning in confusion; Jacquelyn's telling the truth which doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

 

"The power that you and Lydia have acquired, however, _that_ is something I desperately want," she continues.

 

"Lydia's banshee power can't be removed," Stiles says, still a little confused.

 

Derek's expression gives way to a protective snarl, and it's obvious that he at least has some idea of what Jacquelyn means because she smirks at him before turning to face Stiles.

 

"I'm not talking about her banshee power, Stiles. I'm referring to the Alpha power that you and Lydia both have inside of you, power that's not worthy to be held by mere humans," she snarls. "There are so many werewolves that _deserve_ the power of an Alpha, and yet, you two _humans_ gained it instead."

 

Stiles ignores the way she spits out the word 'humans' like it's a curse, and then shakes his head. "Blessed Thistle is used for purification spells. You're trying to get rid of our Alpha power by purifying us, right?"

 

Jacquelyn's toothy smile is the only answer.

 

"Well, that's just great. Did you even want Paradise, or you started this whole turf war just for us?" Stiles mutters.

 

"The airport is in the middle of Paradise, there's nothing there but noise and a hellish life for my wolf and pack. This whole thing is about the Alpha power, and Alpha Deucalion and Alpha Craigson are too busy with their shows of testosterone to notice what's really happening."

 

A soft groan behind Jacquelyn has them all going quiet for a moment, and Stiles sees that Lydia's waking up.

 

"Lyds, don't worry, everything's all right," Stiles calls out to her immediately, watching as she blinks and focuses on the scene before her.

 

" _How_ is us being drugged and kidnapped _all right_ , Stiles?" Lydia snaps, voice firm and pissed off, though her expression's directed towards Jacquelyn.

 

"We're not dead?" Stiles offers, a little weakly, he knows.

 

"That can be arranged," Jacquelyn sneers, stepping over the line of ash, her hand curled into Lydia's long red locks and tugging sharply.

 

"You _really_ don't want to do that," Lydia gasps out, eyes flicking to red briefly despite the ash around her.

 

Jacquelyn obviously can't see the threat that Lydia poses, or chooses to ignore it, Stiles isn't sure. He's watching them both carefully, itching to help or do something, but he's helpless right now and he _hates_ that. Derek's snarling and growling, blunt fingers clawing at the ground as if he can disrupt the circle of ash with his hands alone. Despite his focus on them, it still takes Stiles a moment to realise that Lydia's screamed her head off and Jacquelyn's stumbling back out of the ash circle with her hands held to her ears, blood leaking between her fingers. Then Jacquelyn slaps Lydia so hard her head flings back, and she knocks against the stone wall, collapsing a second later.

 

"Shit! Lydia!" Stiles screams, pushing on the mountain ash barrier desperately, with a roar from Derek barely a second behind him.

 

Elsie turns on them, eyes glowing white, and then suddenly he's feeling so much pain that Stiles doesn't even know if he's screaming or if it's just a sound in his head. He can vaguely hear Derek's roar of pain, smell the scent of blood as his own hands tear at his flesh, the pressure of his fingers digging into his skull, every single nerve on fire and burning. By the time Elsie stops whatever the fuck she'd just done on them, Stiles is curled up in the foetus position, soft whimpers escaping from lips that have been bitten through and are bleeding. Derek doesn't look any better, chest heaving as he leans over and tries not to throw up.

 

Jacquelyn smirks, but doesn't waste any more time with them, stalking out of the room with her own blood still on her hands, and Elsie follows her out wordlessly. The door closes and locks behind them, and Stiles is desperate to think of a way out of this situation. The ash seems to affect only specific people, and now that Lydia's unconscious again, she can't help him think of a way to reverse it. With Lydia hurt and lying there, a red handprint stark against her pale skin, Stiles can't think, can see nothing but a red haze that makes him want to tear Jacquelyn apart limb by bloody limb. Even though Elsie's attack hurt him, he doesn't care about his own pain, only that of his lovers with Lydia not waking up and Derek trembling like he'd been electrocuted with a million watts.

 

"Der? We need to get out of here. She's going to kill us. Our Alpha power's too close to our other powers; we won't survive whatever she has planned," Stiles says, voice close to breaking at the realisation.

 

"I know. I won't let that happen," Derek snarls, eyes still focused on Lydia. "I'm going to try to break through the ash barrier again," he murmurs, hands clenched by his side.

 

Stiles concentrates on breaking his own as well, eyes fading to white as he focuses and tries over and over again. Minutes or hours pass, and they're no closer to escaping than they were before. There's something extra in the mountain ash circles that's stopping anything they could do to escape, and Derek's covered in a sheen of sweat when he finally collapses back and concedes defeat.

 

"Derek? Stiles?" Lydia groans, slowly sitting up and clutching her head.

 

"We're here," Derek replies immediately.

 

"Lyds, you okay?" Stiles asks, right at the edge of his ash circle and tempted to reach out for her, never mind the pain that he knows will follow.

 

"My head hurts, and I'd really like to rip someone's throat out and paint the walls with their larynx," Lydia mutters, tone sweet.

 

"You'll have to get in line for that, Lyds," Stiles snickers, Derek growling.

 

She sighs, then sits back against the wall. "Next time I leave the loft, make sure I have my axe. This would have been over a week ago," Lydia mutters.

 

"We'll have to get a smaller version of your axe for that," Derek muses. "Will a hatchet suffice?"

 

"Not the same thing, but I'll consider about it."

 

"I can make a hatchet with the same wooden handles as my bat," Stiles offers, and Lydia looks a little more interested.

 

Before their conversation can continue - which is a shame because Stiles was about to get into a very excited and detailed description of the types of hatchets that could be modified to fit Lydia perfectly with the shape and weight - the door opens, and Elsie slips in. She's alone, but considering the things she's already done, that doesn't make Stiles relax a single iota.

 

"What do you want?" Stiles snarls.

 

Elise eyes glow white, and before Stiles can say or do anything, his wounds have healed. He takes a deep breath because he wasn't aware just how much he was holding back when he was in pain. Derek and Lydia have healed as well, and while it feels good to be pain-free, it doesn't mean Stiles trusts her any more than he did before she walked into the room.

 

"I asked you a question," he says, teeth gritted.

 

Elise shakes her head and slips out of the door as quietly as she'd entered. Derek looks confused, and Stiles is pretty sure he's mirroring his expression. It takes him a few minutes to realise that even though Elise is an emissary like him (well, he's kind of one; he's never taken a test or anything, but Deaton's dead now, so it's not like there's anyone to give him one anyway. Fuck it, he's their small pack's emissary, whatever), she managed to heal him despite the ash circle around him.

 

"How'd she do that?" Stiles mutters to himself, aware of Derek's gaze on him. "Is it because she was outside of the circle?"

 

"They're meant to contain, not repel. She probably - " Derek cuts off suddenly, looking towards the door.

 

Jacquelyn has returned, looking smug and pleased about something. Elise is standing a few steps behind her, and Stiles wants to question her, but he knows that's a stupid thing to do right now. When Jacquelyn looks at him, her smug expression slips.

 

"How-how did you do that?" Jacquelyn demands, striding over.

 

"What, _this?_ It was easy," Stiles sneers, his chin up defiantly.

 

"Tell me! You shouldn't be able to do anything! Elise couldn't, so how could you?" Jacquelyn snarls.

 

Stiles smirks and steps back. "You'll have to come in here to find out, _Jacqui_. Elise doesn't hold a candle to my power."

 

Jacquelyn looks tempted enough to step across the mountain ash barrier, then considers Stiles for a moment before looking back to Elise. "Is that so?" she murmurs, almost to herself.

 

Before anyone can answer, Jacquelyn's face shifts and she leaps across the room, ripping Elise's throat out with a clawed hand. She drops Elise's body to the ground, and Stiles stares, feeling sick. Sure, he, Lydia, and Derek might be this side of insane, and yeah, his morals were never exactly pointing straight to begin with, but to kill _pack?_ That's a level of insanity he knows they could never reach. They need each other, they'd kill to keep each other safe, not kill to hurt each other. Stiles looks over at Derek and Lydia, both look as horrified as he feels, and he knows that they're thinking the same thing. The second they get out of this hellhole, he's wrapping himself around Derek and Lydia, and Stiles isn't letting them go until he absolutely has to.

 

"You'll be my emissary now. Submit to me," Jacquelyn demands, standing in front of Stiles' prison and waiting impatiently.

 

"Go fuck yourself. I'm not submitting to you! You're _insane!_ You just killed your pack member!"

 

"She was _weak_ , therefore she made my pack weak," Jacquelyn snarls. "Submit, or when you're free of the Alpha power, I'll _make_ you."

 

"Go right ahead and try, but I'm not submitting to you, Alpha power or not!" Stiles snaps.

 

Jacquelyn looks tempted to drag him across the mountain ash, but unfortunately, she doesn't step in the circle. She turns on her heel and leaves, snapping at a subordinate to get rid of the useless dead emissary. Elise's body is dragged out of the room and the door slams closed.

 

Derek moves as close to the edge of his circle as he can, and Stiles does the same, trying to be as close to his lover as possible, to gain and give reassurance.

 

"I was right to refuse her, wasn't I?" Stiles murmurs, using the tip of his finger to push at the ash around him.

 

Surprisingly, the ash moves a little bit, but Stiles' second of hope deflates when it springs back almost immediately.

 

"You were right. She would have used you against us," Lydia said firmly.

 

"An Alpha's thrall is too strong to resist for someone recently turned - or a recent submission," Derek adds. "Besides, you don't belong to her, or anyone else."

 

"Yeah, I do. You and Lyds," Stiles says easily, the thought not as off-putting as it might have been once.

 

He used to be a man that didn't need no man, and he supposed he still was, in the technical sense. He needed his banshee and werewolf, just as much as they needed him.

 

Stiles put a bit more strength into flicking the ash, and he blinked in surprise when it took a few seconds to return and retain its original shape. He tried again, purposely trying to hold it back, and both Lydia and Derek went still when they saw what was happening. Stiles grinned as the ash wavered, as if it was unsure if it should snap back to the circle, or move to join Derek's instead. He pushes it a bit further, just that final bit closer to Derek's than his own, and lets out a laugh when the two circles snapped together.

 

Derek reaches over towards him almost hesitantly, eyes flashing red when he realises he can touch Stiles again without being in pain. Stiles lets out a sigh of relief at Derek's touch, feeling his strength gathering as he nuzzles against his palm.

 

"As cute as you two are, I'd really like to get in on the action," Lydia says with a smirk, her words prompting them to pull apart quickly.

 

Stiles grins at Lydia broadly. "Be right with you, Lyds."

 

Derek practically lifts him over his lap to the edge of the two circles. Stiles isn't really surprised to see that it doesn't take as much work to join the two combined circles with Lydia's. It's not much, they're still trapped, but at least they're together now. Stiles pulls Lydia close, presses a kiss to her cheek, and Derek moves so he can nuzzle her neck. Lydia lets them touch and kiss her for a few moments, returning the actions herself, then she pulls away gently.

 

"Stiles, do you think you can push the edge of the ash barrier so we can open the door?"

 

Stiles looks the metre between the ash barrier and the door, head tilted as he feels for his Alpha power and spark. "I can definitely try."

 

Lydia and Derek barely even glance at each other before they answer together. "Do or do not, there is no try."

 

Fuck, Stiles loves them so much.

 

...

 

Jacquelyn feels a surge of power rushing through her, Elsie's blood still tainting her lips, but the power, dear god, the power is like nothing she's ever felt before. No wonder Deucalion killed his former pack. She feels as though she could conquer the world, her emissary's lifeblood rushing through her and making her see everything so _clearly_.

 

She contemplates going to check on her prisoners; they must be getting weary by now, and Jacquelyn is certain that Derek would do anything to save the ones he loves, even if they lost him as a consequence. Before she can stand to check on them, she hears a knock on the door. It surprises her, as she hadn't heard anyone approaching, and as Jacquelyn breathes in deeply to try to determine just who is at her front door, she realises that she can't smell them either. It has to be a werewolf, but her pack is in her home, and she has no idea who would be outside now. Others in her pack don't seem to share her concern, as one of her betas opens the door before she can call out , and Jacquelyn _feels_ the bond between her and the beta ripping apart as the werewolf is torn to pieces.

 

She stands off her chair and runs to the front door, growling a threat along the way, her betas crowding to follow her. Jacquelyn is met with the sight of Deucalion standing in her doorway, her beta's blood and limbs dripping from his fanged mouth and clawed fingers.

 

"I've come for Alphas Stiles, Lydia, and Derek," Deucalion announces as way of greeting, and Jacquelyn snarls in response, eyes glowing red.

 

There are several howls of pain behind her, and Jacquelyn turns slightly so she won't lose sight of Deucalion, in order to see what's going on. Stiles, Lydia, and Derek are all walking towards her, her werewolves being torn up as they near, and she has no idea how they've managed to escape her modified mountain ash barrier. Then, as Jacquelyn hears a rush of dust and ash, she looks down to discover that they haven't left it at all. The barrier is moving with them, still keeping them contained as she'd ensured, but they can still use their power within the ash.

 

They stop abruptly, the ash barrier just at the edge of her feet, and Stiles smirks at the expression on her face.

 

"You've got two options, Jacqui; step into the barrier and let us deal with you, or step forward and let Deucalion deal with you. We'll leave it up to you."

 

"How did he know you were here?!" Jacquelyn demands, needing an answer just as much as she needs to stall for time.

 

Lydia laughs and holds up her phone. "Funny thing about mountain ash barriers - they're useless against modern technology - and you were too stupid to even hide our belongings very well," she adds, as if she's disappointed.

 

Jacquelyn glances between the three Alphas and Deucalion, hears her pack still howling in pain and calling out to her, and then runs straight through her living room wall.

 

"Duke, I think we'll let you take care of her. You did mention the other week how long it's been since you've hunted," Lydia adds with a smile.

 

"Thank you for your generosity, Alpha Lydia," Deucalion says, nodding his head briefly. "The sources I've been in contact with have informed me that once you step off Jacquelyn's land, the barrier should break. If not, please don't hesitate to call me and tell me otherwise. You will understand if I do not answer my phone straight away," he adds.

 

"Of course. Go, before she outruns you; she killed her emissary earlier," Stiles informs him.

 

Deucalion lets out a snarl that doesn't really surprise any of them; he's much more protective of pack since having his sight returned and ending his stint as the Destroyer of Worlds. They all watch as he runs through the hole Jacquelyn created, and then Stiles looks to Derek and Lydia.

 

"Outside, or deal with this pack first?"

 

"Outside first. I want to get something out of the car," Lydia says, and with a firm nod, Stiles concentrates his power and walks them and the ash barrier outside.

 

As soon as they step off Jacquelyn's front kerb, Stiles' knees shake at the exertion of moving the barrier for so long, and he falls into Derek's arms. Lydia presses a warm kiss to his mouth before heading over to the car, and Derek hugs him as he holds him up.

 

"You did good, Stiles," Derek murmurs.

 

"So did you, letting Duke deal with Jacqui like that. I know you're itching to run after her yourself," Stiles admits, patting Derek's arm that's resting against his stomach.

 

"Not as much as I want you and Lydia close to me. Duke will bring us proof of her demise, that's enough."

 

Stiles believes him because Derek doesn't lie, not to his pack, and they're both silent as they watch Lydia return with her handbag. She removes a small ceremonial dagger and offers it to Stiles. He takes it with barely contained glee, and immediately slices his hand open. Derek holds out his hand to do the same, as does Lydia, and they stand together to let their blood drip on Jacquelyn's front lawn.

 

All at once, every plant in the front garden withers and dies, and there are several flashes of bright lights as various spells, incantations, and charms are broken throughout the house. Stiles heals their hands with a white-eyed glow, and breathes in deeply as they head across the newly purified land.

 

"Lyds, I know you're the ambassador of all this, but what do you think of giving the Spring Valley land to Duke, and Craigson gets Paradise?" Stiles suggests.

 

"You mean giving the side with the hellish airport to the chauvinistic misogynist?" Lydia replies, a small laugh escaping as they walk into the house. "I'm all for that. He'll think he's won by getting Paradise, but Duke gets the pack and land which is a much better trade."

 

In the distance, they hear a howl and a scream, both cut off abruptly. The werewolves in front of them all seem to be lost for a few moments now that their Alpha is dead and a new one is taking place, but they settle down by the time Deucalion returns.

 

"We've made our decision about Paradise, Alpha Deucalion," Lydia says formally.

 

Deucalion nods and waits for her to continue.

 

"Alpha Craigson will be granted Paradise, along with its many aeronautical benefits," she adds with a smirk, and Deucalion's mouth twitches as though he's holding back a laugh. "You will be granted Spring Valley and the pack along with it. That is, if you choose to keep them alive," Lydia adds, glancing over to the group of werewolves who are still healing.

 

Deucalion glances over to them as well, his eyes narrowing as he takes them all in by turn. "I suppose I shall be merciful in granting them a short probation. Any that were loyal to Jacquelyn will be turned out as omegas, and they must, of course, get along with my current pack. If not, I will request the newcomers are sent to another pack instead."

 

A few of the werewolves looked horrified at the prospect of becoming an omega, while some still looked sullen. One of the werewolves, a woman that Lydia recognised as Jacquelyn's second-in-command, snarled and leapt at Deucalion while his back was turned. Deucalion turned at the last moment and quite literally tore her to shreds with his teeth and hands.

 

"Well, I suppose that your probation starts now. You have three days," Deucalion announces, the werewolves all baring their necks to his red-eyed glare.

 

"Would you be so kind as to let Alpha Craigson know of our decision? I will confirm it tomorrow via video conference," Lydia adds, Deucalion nodding his head once more.

 

"We're leaving?" Derek asks, and Lydia nods in response.

 

"Duke'll send our stuff to Beacon Hills for us, won't you?" Stiles asks.

 

"Of course," Deucalion replies. "I will arrange for an escort for your return home," he adds.

 

"No need, Duke. We'll be home before you are," Stiles says with a grin, linking his arms with Lydia and Derek's as their eyes all glow red.

 

Deucalion doesn't get a chance to question him or reply, because in the next breath, all three have disappeared from sight. Deucalion turns to his newest pack members and files all fifteen outside to head to Las Vegas. He'll organise for Lydia's rental car to be returned that afternoon, and their belongings sent express so they arrive as soon as possible. He'd prefer not to be on the wrong side of the Alpha trio if he could help it.

 

...

 

Stiles is beyond exhausted when they arrive home at the loft. He doesn't even protest when Derek lifts him up in his arms and carries him to their dark bedroom, Lydia following and going straight to the bathroom to clean up and get over their ordeal. Stiles mumbles something about calling his dad to let him know they're back.

 

"I'll call when you're asleep and resting, Stiles. You need to recover, you used more energy than any of us," Derek murmurs, brushing his hair back from his face as he starts to leach his pain.

 

Stiles wants to protest, to make Derek stop taking his pain, but Derek presses a kiss to his cheek, his thumb brushing against his forehead gently.

 

"You're my lover, my pack, and my emissary. I need to look after you, just as you looked after me and Lydia today. Let me do this," Derek murmurs.

 

Stiles relaxes into the touch, eyes too heavy to lift, even when Lydia returns from the bathroom and climbs up onto the bed, her warm and damp body curling up around him.

 

As he dozes off, Stiles hears Derek calling his father to let him know of their return. They'll explain everything else at dinner on the weekend, if they decide to let him know. Then, after the call is finished, Stiles hears Derek chuckle.

 

"Duke was _scared_ of you," Derek says to Lydia softly, grinning.

 

"Of course he was, I'm terrifying," Lydia says with a grin of her own, one that's spoiled a moment later by a large yawn.

 

Derek snorts in amusement, then climbs onto the bed as well, his arm wrapping around both of their bodies and holding them close. Lydia kisses him sleepily, making the soft little noises they both adore as she drifts off to sleep.

 

"We're home, we're together, and we're safe. Go to sleep now, Stiles," he murmurs, kissing him gently.

 

Stiles does exactly that.

 

...

 

The end.

 

Thanks for reading!


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